When somebody dies in Harlow Creek, the town brings food. It is not optional. It is closer to law than the actual law is, and so when Vernon Tilly passed, the casseroles began before the body was cold. This was remarkable, because nobody in Harlow Creek had liked Vernon Tilly. The man had sued his own neighbours, twice, over a fence. He had reported children for noise. And yet by Tuesday evening his widow Delphine had eleven casseroles lined up on her porch, because the town did not bring food for Vernon. It brought food for the form of the thing. I know all this because I am Delphine's sister, and I was there counting dishes, and I was the one who noticed that the twelfth casserole had no name taped to the foil. Every casserole in Harlow Creek has a name taped to the foil. That is also law.
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